Three more years pass. Amata is waking me up. I like this future already. Now she’s ranting about her father’s henchmen; they’ve killed Jonas. Damn, beat me to it! She says I have to run. I guess my dad escaped from the vault, and now her dad wants to kill me. Blah blah blah…and then she gives me a gun! “Thanks, Amata. I’ll only use it as a last resort, I promise.” Yes, the first resort I’ll use on your father will be my fists. Then I’ll use the baseball bat I just picked up. And then my last resort will be this pistol.

I leave my room and immediately run into Butch! He says his mom is trapped in her apartment and is under attack from huge roaches. I calmly say “Let’s go help her.” I kill the roaches attacking Butch’s mom. He wants me to have his tunnel snakes jacket. I put my gun away, take the jacket, and then I beat Butch to death in front of his mom. I may not be a smart man, but I know what humiliating is.

I find a room where Amata is being interrogated by her father and a security guard. Oh yes. Let the pain begin. I use the last of my bullets on the security guard, and Amata runs out of the room. Looks like it’s baseball bat o’clock for Mr. Overseer. He goes for a police baton. Wow, he’s quick! He gets in some good shots, and his defenses are sturdy. I finally break his guard and his right arm with my trusty slugger. Then I hit a homer off his face.

It’s a deathblow. He spins low and sprawls out on a cot next to the wall. How convenient! I gleefully step up on the cot and stand over his face, then I firmly press my balls down on his forehead. Could this moment be any sweeter?

“Oh…god. What are you doing to my father?” asks a shaky feminine voice from somewhere behind me.

I don’t say anything; I think it was a rhetorical question.

I turn around and face Amata. I try to put a brave face on the situation, but then I realize I’m still holding the baseball bat. Shit. She asks again, “Oh…god. What are you doing to my father?” And then again, quickly “Oh…god. What are you doing to my father?” Awkward!

I leave, but I’ve only gone two steps down the hallway when I realize I’ll need the Overseer’s key card to escape. And he probably has some money.

I walk back in and she’s still crying. I pass her and quickly grab everything in the Overseer’s inventory; no point in extending her misery. She did, after all, give me the comic book that taught me to kill her father. The sobbing increases and I realize my error. I took his clothes; he’s naked. I should probably give those back. I am such an idiot! I search through my things and find his suit. Oh, these have some nice stats. +5 to science? Glaven!

…

In my snappy new duds, I head into the Overseer’s office and open the secret tunnel under his desk. Security reinforcements arrive just in time to take pot shots at me, but I’m already too far away to hit. I get to the room with the vault door, and hit the switch, but just as it opens, Amata runs in with tears on her face. “You didn’t have to kill him!” she cries. Oh ho, the Overseer isn’t the only one I left an impression on. I walk to her and say “I’m sorry, Amata. But I had no choice.”

And then I dramatically turn and run down the tunnel to freedom, and the Capital Wasteland.

Now watch as the self-described “hard-core” fans of The Exiled from way back from the Moscow days will bitch about how video game reviews “totally killed The eXile” retroactively for them and not Russian bureaucrats.

Unemployed? I’d say rightfully so. What about trying to apply some basic English Grammar to your sentences, no, better quit “reviewing” video games altogether and get a basic education first. Fallout3 was already done on the Exiled. It was perfect. Compared to this one it shines even more. If the former review was University grade, this one is even below Kindergarten. Seriously. Do some manual labor, you might excel @ that, but STOP REVIEWING GAMES. NOW. It’s not too late yet.

Hell, here’s a life-lesson for ya. Expat living as described in the eXile was pretty much as described. Ex-ex-pat living, though, is pretty much as has been described in the Exiled over the last year.

Yeah, that’s right guys, expats get into lots of steamy stuff overseas, but ship them back to the homeland and their lives suck just as bad as anyone else who is going through this recession. Give me a break, if you guys want your fix of expat-living-by-proxy, you’ll have to go elsewheres. At the moment, this all seems very real to me.

6. kqnbkal | February 13th, 2009 at 4:29 pm

It’s not about reading about their expat exploits it’s about good writing. That’s the only reason I ever read the exile.

Any 18 year old masturbation addict could write crap like this. Hey, Ames: is this guy your dealer or something? Were you low on cash and you let him write video game reviews as a form of barter?

Listen to the Radio War Nerd podcast [subscribe here] with guest Gunnar Hrafn Jonsson of Iceland Public Radio on the massacre in Orlando and how online Islamic State jihadis are dealing with battlefield defeats and the shrinking caliphate. Subscribe to Radio War Nerd through the show’s Patreon page.

The political establishment’s racist, authoritarian reaction to the 1992 LA riots—blaming broken black families, massing cops and troops, and Ron Paul’s advice to his family on how to kill black “animals” and get away with it…